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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087521">Welcome to The Magnus Archives (or how to make a career out of serving eldritch horrors)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveThroatSpiders/pseuds/IHaveThroatSpiders'>IHaveThroatSpiders</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast), Welcome to Night Vale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Avatar!Sasha, Canon-Typical Cosmic Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Don't worry the worst I will do is turn everyone into evil monsters, F/F, F/M, First fic let's go!!!, Gen, I have a sneaking suspicion I only wrote this fic to use that tag, I haven't decided, I will be using the tags for personal commentary, Kind of a fix-it except the the character who is meant to "fix-it" has no idea what they are doing, M/M, Multi, No Beta we die like archive assistants and NVCR interns, Or maybe they will just ascend to heaven like our girl Vithya, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, There will definitely be an amount of happiness, and isn't that an anxiety inducing tag, avatar!Jon, it will be absolutely fine just trust me, mostly happy, this is gonna be a rough ride I am gonna be honest, why isn't that a tag for either of these fandoms?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveThroatSpiders/pseuds/IHaveThroatSpiders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zvi Zana was perfectly happy with dying or vanishing mysteriously in the line of duty. He was an intern at Night Vale Community radio, it was just part of the job. But when Strex corp takes over, and the town rises up against their corporate overlords, and chaos reigns, Zvi doesn't pay enough attention to which door he runs through in the panic. Now he is stranded in a strange place called England, working for a strange woman named Gertrude Robinson. At least he still has a job. </p><p>Jonathan Sims was not qualified for his promotion. Not that he planned on telling anyone this, he was a professional thank you very much. But when danger comes for his assistants, and they receive mysterious, helpful notes from an anonymous sender, Jon begins to suspect that he is far less qualified for his promotion than he had initially thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, JK I will probably get them together, Locked in a never-ending will they won't they death match, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James &amp; Tim Stoker, maybe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One of These Doors Is Not Like The Others</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!!! Thank you to anyone who decided to click on this, I am very excited to be writing it.<br/>Also Sasha is definitely getting avatared somehow, and the others might as well, so let me know in the comments what alignment you want to see from her and others!</p><p>The POV will be shifting, and after the beginning chapters it will not really be in Zvi's perspective that often if you were not enthused with an OC getting all of that fic time. I am not usually one of OCs but I like the narrative flexibility that comes from a barely mentioned intern. </p><p>I will be updating hopefully twice a week once finals are over but until then it might be a tad inconsistent so bear with me. The outline for this fic is mostly finished though, so don't worry about it not being finished because it absolutely will be. </p><p>This is my first fic so any and all feedback is welcome!</p><p>Also kudos and comments are very motivating and lovely as well. </p><p>If you are interested in Beta-ing for me, feel free to comment or send me a message. </p><p>Alright enough of my rambling, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door in front of Zvi was not old nor oak. Well, it might have been, but it wasn’t the same raw dark wood, found throughout the rest of the town. It was<br/>
yellow, sunbaked warm, and it hummed as Zvi ran through and slammed it closed behind him, panting as he tried and failed to banish the image of the slavering, vicious thing dressed as an office worker galloping after him. </p><p>Of course, he only registered the strangeness of the door when he realized that he was not in a desert wasteland of the likes which had been described to him by Cecil on the Radio. Instead, he was in a hallway. It looked somewhat like a hotel actually, except there weren’t any rooms. Just hallway. </p><p>Zvi turned around and sighed when he realized the door was no longer there behind him. Figures, it would be like this. he would be lucky if he ever found his way back now. But it wasn’t like he had been expecting to live long given his chosen profession. </p><p>He gave the hallway a cursory investigation, only to find that as expected, there did not seem to be a way out. Deciding that since he probably wasn’t going to get back to Night Vale in time to help overthrow Strex Corp., now was as good a time as any to take a bit of a nap. That was probably the dehydration and blood-loss talking, but nonetheless the shifting colors of the carpet looked incredibly inviting. </p><p>As he sunk to the floor, only mildly surprised by the strange, oddly slick texture, and allowed the oppressive heat of whatever this place was to weigh him down into the floor like a blanket, he reflected briefly that he hadn’t expected the end of his internship at Night Vale Community Radio to be so pleasant.  </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep, but when he awoke, the oppressive heat still hung in the air, and the wallpaper was a different color. Zvi pushed himself up slowly, leaving a dark stain on the carpet beneath him, the contrast between its color and the carpet oddly enthralling. ‘I’m bleeding.’ He thought dumbly. Hand feeling at the wounds on his side from where one of the office workers’ claws had caught him. </p><p>He pulled out his phone, which just had a picture of the wallpaper on it. It was a nice wallpaper he decided, and time wasn’t real anyway, so he decided it wasn’t that important that the time and date readout was gone. </p><p>By the time Zvi had struggled to his feet, he was no longer alone in the hallway.</p><p>There was a figure about thirty paces away. It was warped and tall, like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. </p><p>Zvi decided to ask it for directions. </p><p>“Hello!” he called. “My name is Zvi, do you think you could direct me to Night Vale?” </p><p>The figure twitched but did not speak. </p><p>‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘it was worth a shot.’</p><p>“Anywhere else really would work too.” He offered. He had heard Carlos and his scientists mention sometimes how hard it was for other people to find Night Vale. Maybe the figure didn’t know where it was. Or maybe the figure didn’t know anything more about the hallways than Zvi did. </p><p>That thought made him uneasy, so he pushed it away. No, the creature would definitely be able to help him. He could find his own way home once he was out of there. </p><p>The uneasiness didn't go away as he shuffled closer to the figure. It reminded him a bit of the feeling of accidentally sitting too close to the hooded figures at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. </p><p>At least it was familiar, and it reminded him a bit of home. </p><p>“What’s your name? Do you know your way around here? I was kind of in the middle of something back home, in Night Vale. An uprising.” He informed the figure. </p><p>The figure lurched forward at that. Its long spindly limbs extending out toward him, hands massive and swollen. It viscerally reminded Zvi of a Librarian for an instant, the way it seemed to have too many joints. But it was different, not a Librarian, more humanoid. It looked like it had blond curly hair, which Zvi found very beautiful, and even if its face was too distorted to make out, Zvi thought it looked strangely pained.  </p><p>“Are you alright?” he asked, a bit hesitantly. </p><p>The figure paused, looking almost, surprised? Shocked? Offended? Zvi wasn’t sure how to read its expression as its features swirled like an optical illusion. </p><p>“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable.” Zvi rushed to say. “I know you don’t know me or anything. It’s just, you seemed a bit…upset? and I’ve had a pretty awful day too, so if you wanted to talk about it, I would listen.” He gestured to the hallway, which now had an offensively yellow wallpaper. “especially since it seems like we might be here awhile.” </p><p>The figure, if possible, looked even more taken aback, disturbed? </p><p>It took a step back from him. Bloated arms lowering to its sides. </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry.” Said Zvi. “I didn’t mean to offend you. let me know if you want to talk though, you know where to find me.” He smiled at the figure nervously, not sure what exactly he had said to make it look like it wanted to run away. </p><p>Just then, behind Zvi there came a slow creaking sound that caused him to spin around wildly in search of the source, mind filled with images of the rabid office workers coming into the hallways after him.</p><p>It was a door, cracked open. Zvi turned around to ask the figure if it knew when the door had gotten there, but it was gone. He shrugged and made his way to what was hopefully a way back home.  </p><p>There didn’t appear to be any bloodthirsty Strex Corp. employees immediately outside the door, just ceiling-high shelves stuffed with a disorganized array of files and boxes with faded or scratched out labels.</p><p>Immediately Zvi was on guard, was this a library? The Library? Was he about to be hunted again, this time by ravenous Librarians? He had only been to the Night Vale Public Library once, and while the interior he had seen while running for his life had not looked like this, it could potentially be a different part of the The Library he hadn’t been chased through. </p><p>He crept silently around one of the towering shelves, peering down the aisle. Nothing. No librarians, at least for now. </p><p>He carefully made his way down the aisle, moving slowly so as not to make a sound or aggravate his injuries and bleed unnecessarily. He was pretty sure Librarians could smell blood. He also breathed as slowly and calmly as he could, because he was pretty sure that Librarians could also smell fear. Better safe than eaten by a Librarian. </p><p>Then someone’s hands were wrapped around his lapels and shoving him roughly against one of the shelves. </p><p>His head connected with metal with a reverberating thunk that left stars in his vision, if Zvi could feel pain, he was sure that he would have passed out from it by now. </p><p>As it was, he decided it would be a good idea to try and stay conscious for now. There was someone talking to him. He shook his head to try and clear his vision.</p><p>A goth and an old woman were staring at him expectantly and threateningly. The goth’s expression was a mixture of confusion and suspicion, and the woman’s face was unreadable.</p><p>“Are there any Librarians here?” Zvi asked them, trying to whisper in case there were.  </p><p>The goth and the woman exchanged a Look. Zvi didn’t understand what they were saying with the Look, but it appeared quite verbose. </p><p>“What is your business here?” The old woman said in a clipped, foreign accent. Zvi thought she was very impressive sounding. </p><p>“You have a wonderful voice.” He told her. Nodding to himself and then wincing when that brought on a fresh wave of nausea. He probably needed some First Aid. </p><p>“Do either of you know First Aid?” He asked. </p><p>They gave each other another Look. </p><p>“Your injured.” Said the Goth. It wasn’t said as a question, so Zvi was confused whether he should respond. He settled for a thumbs up, which caused the Goth’s eyes to narrow.  </p><p>“I might pass out.” He informed them. And then proceeded to do so.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gerry thinks Zvi is crazier than a bag of cats, but he kinda digs it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello lads! I am procrastinating studying for my finals by giving you this. Please don't hesitate to point out things that are confusing or weirdly written to you. I am self-editing and that makes for some wacky mistakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Zvi woke up, it was in a hospital. This was incredibly distressing. The first thing he did was the standard hospital checklist. All of his limbs? Check. Eyes, ears, and nose? Check. Organs? He would have to ask. He opened his eyes to find the Goth from before sitting by his bedside, watching him silently. </p><p>“Do you know if they removed any of my organs?” Zvi asked. Maybe the Goth had been standing guard to make sure the Doctors behaved themselves.</p><p>The goth’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”</p><p>“My organs?” Said Zvi, anxiously. “Did they take any?”</p><p>The Goth looked almost worried. “They didn’t take your organs. You’re still recovering from your concussion.”</p><p>It was a statement, but it still felt like a question. The Goth really had a habit of doing that, making statements that felt like they still begged a response. It made Zvi feel awkward.</p><p>Nonetheless, Zvi was intensely relieved to hear that he still had all his organs.</p><p>“You never know you know? And my head feels fine, I think.” He said.</p><p>The Goth’s expression communicated that he very much did not know. Probably hadn’t been to a hospital before. He’d learn.</p><p>“I am here to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.” Asked the Goth, sitting up a bit in his chair.</p><p>“Um, yes?” Said Zvi. “Do we have to stay here for the questions, or can we go somewhere else?”</p><p>The Goth tilted his head in thought. “You’re feeling well enough to move.”</p><p>Zvi shrugged, not really knowing how to respond to another one of these statement-questions. “Mainly I am just nervous about being in a hospital, good thing I don’t have a romantic partner.” He cracked a smile at the Goth.</p><p>The Goth did not smile back, but he did look more concerned.</p><p>“Yeah, I think you should stay here a bit longer, just to make sure your concussion isn’t worse than they thought.”</p><p>Zvi reluctantly agreed that was probably for the best. Even if he didn’t trust the doctors, it was definitely a good idea not to pull his stitches too soon. Plus, he still felt a bit dehydrated from all of the excitement.</p><p>“Alright we can do the questions here.” Said Zvi. Settling back against his pillows.</p><p>The Goth studied him for a moment, he seemed oddly, frustrated, for some reason. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“Let’s start with your name. You didn’t have any ID on you, and you aren’t in the system here.”</p><p>“I’m Zvi.” Said Zvi. “I don’t really know where this is, but I wasn’t really thinking about needing ID when I was running. Do they have my phone somewhere though?” His sister was going to be so worried about him.</p><p>The Goth hesitated, then pulled out Zvi’s phone from inside his very impressive jacket, handing it over.</p><p>“You were running.” He not-asked.</p><p>“I escaped the mandatory Company Picnic and so the Strex people were coming after me.” Zvi answered distractedly; focused on calling his sister. His phone whined and squirmed but began to ring as he waited for her to pick up.</p><p>The Goth still looked very concerned about something but Zvi wasn’t really paying attention as his phone rang. He was so close to being able to tell everyone that he was alright. The line clicked, and for just a moment Zvi thought the call had connected, but then his phone sprouted legs and pincers, pinched him, and then proceeded to scuttle away while Zvi cradled his damaged finger.</p><p>He felt like crying. How was he going to tell Night Vale he was alive? Cecil had probably already announced his death, probably already given his condolences to his family, and wasn’t that just the worst part? He had been prepared for the idea that his family and friends might one day hear that he’d died in the line of duty. He just hadn’t been expecting to still be alive, to know it was happening and be unable to do anything about it.</p><p>The Goth’s accusing voice distracted him from wallowing further.</p><p>“—of the Web then? What were you planning to do in the archives?” He was growling.</p><p>Zvi blinked at him. “The what?” What was he planning? The archives? He didn’t know what those were. For a moment it almost felt like he was going to throw up, like there was something pressed against his teeth, but he didn’t know it was, he didn’t know what the Goth was talking about, and for a split second, he didn’t know anything at all, and then the pressure subsided and Zvi was left shaking with the aftereffects of whatever that had been. Perhaps he wasn’t so recovered from the concussion after all.</p><p>“How did you do that?” The Goth breathed, looking almost as shaken as Zvi. </p><p>“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying.” Said Zvi. Gesturing in the direction his phone had scampered. “What did you ask?”</p><p>“But you just…You’re Web-aligned.” He accused; bafflement darkened by menace.</p><p>“I don’t know what that is?” Said Zvi, shrinking down a bit into his blankets.</p><p>The Goth squinted at him.</p><p>“You don’t know what that is.” He repeated flatly.</p><p>“Yes?” Said Zvi getting a bit frustrated with this interaction. “Look I am sorry I can’t answer any of your statement-questions right. I really just want to go home but I don’t even know where I am. And don’t know who you are but I really just want to know where we are so I can go home. Okay?” He took a breath to steady himself and watched as the Goth shifted in his chair.</p><p>“We’re at Lister Hospital.” Said the Goth finally.</p><p>Zvi frowned. “I mean, where are we more broadly?” He pointed to the Goth, then himself. “I was in Night Vale, and now I am not. Where are we?”</p><p>“Where—ah, where is Night Vale?” Asked the Goth cautiously.</p><p>Zvi was a bit stumped. It was a difficult question, and he couldn’t remember much US geography, and from what the Scientists had mentioned, Night Vale didn’t really have a fixed location from the rest of the country’s perspective.</p><p>“The desert. In the United States.” Said Zvi, hoping that was good enough for the Goth and he would tell Zvi where he was now.</p><p>“You’re an American.” Said the Goth.  </p><p>“Yes.” He answered.</p><p>“And Night Vale is in America. And that’s where you are from.” The Goth summarized.</p><p>“Yes.” Zvi said again.</p><p>“You’re in London, England.” revealed the Goth.</p><p>Zvi struggled to remember what that was, was it in Europe? He tried to remember if Cecil ever mentioned London during his trip to Europe.</p><p>“In Europe?” He guessed.</p><p>The Goth looked constipated.</p><p>“I—Close enough. How did you get from America to England without realizing it?”</p><p>Zvi thought back to the strange hallways and the shy, distorted figure.</p><p>“There was a door, I was running so I wasn’t paying attention. And then I was in these hallways, and I talked to this person? I think they were a person? It was hard to tell. but I don’t think they wanted to talk to me back and then there was another door and then I met you!” Said Zvi.</p><p>The Goth’s eyes widened.</p><p>“Hallways? This…person. You spoke to it?”</p><p>Zvi nodded. “They didn’t talk back though; I think they were shy.”</p><p>The Goth looked baffled again.</p><p>“And you didn’t know where you were, when you met me?”</p><p>Zvi shook his head.</p><p>The Goth nodded slowly, a bit of lingering distrust darkening his eyes. </p><p>“So, answer this then, if you’re here on accident, and you aren’t affiliated with the Web, then why did your phone just turn into a spider?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure it was a scorpion actually.” Zvi corrected. Did phones not do that in England?</p><p>The Goth narrowed his eyes at him.</p><p>“And why did it do that?”</p><p>Zvi felt his lower lip wobble a bit before he could stop it. “Because it couldn’t get a signal.” He whispered. Feeling a tear trace his cheek. He wiped it away. “I was trying to call my sister, but—” He couldn’t get the words out before a sob pushed its way out his throat.</p><p>The Goth looked a bit freaked out now, but he leaned forward and awkwardly pat him on the shoulder.</p><p>Zvi wanted to stop crying, he hated crying in front of other people. But he was just overwhelmed at the thought that he might never speak to his sister again, and it felt so easy to give into despair, if only for a short while. He was vaguely aware that the Goth sat with him while he cried, but neither of them said anything. And soon Zvi felt himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the receding sound of heavy boots on linoleum.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;O&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Gerry did not know what to make of the man who had mysteriously appeared in the archives despite clearly not using any of the known available entrances. His name was “Zvi” apparently, and he was from a town in America called Night Vale. He also seemed to be fairly mad, if his relative nonchalance in the face of his cell phone turning into a thing—a <em>scorpion</em> apparently—was anything to go by. Gerry hadn’t really been able to get a coherent explanation about that beyond a tearful mention of “no signal” and a mournful expression. How that was in any way related had yet to be determined.</p><p>During his follow up visit with Zvi, Gerry did not learn very much more. Just that Zvi had a sister, who he wanted to be able to call. And Gerry had promised to get him a phone as soon as he was discharged.</p><p>He learned that what had brought him to London in the first place was most definitely the Distortion, though he didn’t tell Zvi that. It was curious how apparently easy the experience had been for Zvi, how it seemed that Michael would not be coming to claim this particular victim. It was utterly baffling that Zvi continued to mention offending Michael in some way who he insisted on describing as “shy” of all things.</p><p>Most importantly, Zvi didn’t seem to know the first thing about Smirke’s Fourteen, the archives, the rituals, any of it. His ability to resist Gerry's not-so-accidental use of compulsion seemed to be a fluke, as he'd compelled him a bit more gently on his second visit and it had worked fine. Still it had never seen anything like it before from a human, the way Zvi had seemed swallow the compelled answer. As bizarre as the incident was, as bizarre as he was, it seemed as though that might just his personality, or at worst, a side-effect of escaping the Distortion, rather than anything more sinister. Still Gertrude wanted to be sure.</p><p>And he did know that watching Gertrude interrogate Zvi was going to be one of the funniest things he’d ever seen in his whole Gods-damned life.</p><p>He skulked into the waiting room of the Hospital to find a few members of the staff watching Zvi warily as if he was some dangerous wild animal rather than a relatively short, young man obliviously read one of those trashy magazines that seemed like they were printed for the sole purpose of populating waiting rooms. Brilliant. Somehow he'd managed to freak out the staff. Gerry could only imagine how. He would like to spend the whole day imagining how. </p><p>“Ready to go Zvi?” Gerry asked, watching as the other man looked up from his magazine and nearly blinded him with his smile.</p><p>“Hello, Gerry! Yes, I think I am.” He stood up and offered the hovering staff a friendly wave that caused them all to flinch a bit.</p><p>Gerry looked between Zvi and the hospital staff, snorting.</p><p>“We are leaving.” He assured the staff, who seemed not at all reassured by this. He grabbed Zvi’s wrist and guided him out of the doors and on to the street.</p><p>Turns out, Zvi being from a town in the desert was not at all prepared for the City. This deeply strange man made a cooing noise and almost walked into traffic trying to watch a tour bus on the way to where Gerry's bike was parked. Fucking Hell.</p><p>“It’s so big!” Exclaimed Zvi.</p><p>“Welcome to London, Zvi.” Gerry smirked.</p><p>“Night Vale was bigger than some towns, I think. But this is amazing!” Svi said. “Speaking of which, we need to get a new phone soon, so I can try to call home again.” He said, mood becoming a bit more subdued.</p><p>Gerry nodded.</p><p>“I remember. Will this new one also turn into a scorpion?” He asked. Only partly as a joke. </p><p>Zvi rolled his eyes.</p><p>“As long as it has international calls it should be fine.” He said this like it was obvious, and not completely fucking bonkers, but oh well.</p><p>“Well that will be our first stop after Gertrude.” He said, handing Zvi a helmet as he warmed up the motorcycle.</p><p>“You said she might be able to get me home.” Said Zvi, so quiet Gerry had to strain to hear him over the motorcycle engines. “Do you really think she’ll be able to?”</p><p>Gerry shrugged, feigning apathy though the uncertainty in Zvi’s voice tugged at his shriveled, goth heart strings.</p><p>“If anyone can, it’ll be her.” He said firmly, tugging Zvi onto the back of the bike, and ignoring pessimistic voice in his head whispering that this might not be something even Gertrude could do. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Zvi: Phones turn into scorpions when they can't connect international calls. Obviously. </p><p>Gerry: Alright whatever you say you crazy bastard. </p><p>*drives away on motorcycle*</p><p>After exams I will figure out a consistent update schedule I promise. </p><p>Next chapter: Gertrude's steel-trap mind vs. the utter chaos that is a standard Nightvalian</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. An Offer He Won't Be Able to Refuse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While Jurgen Leitner frets, and Gerry laughs, and Gertrude plots, Zvi just is.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone I am so happy you all are enjoying my story!!! Thank you so much for all of the comments, and I want to apologize for being MIA for so long. I started a new job (very exciting) but I did basically nothing but work and eat and sleep the past month. My schedule has calmed down for now so I will endeavor to be be more consistent. For now expect an update every other week unless I say otherwise. </p><p>Now, On With The Story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zvi was standing in a dark stone room, occupied by a desk, and an incredibly imposing woman. This was the old woman from before—Gertrude Robinson—the woman Gerry said might be able to help him.</p><p>Gertrude Robinson was terrifying. Zvi liked her.</p><p>After Gerry had picked him up from the hospital, they had gone to a small shed that had a sign on it reading: MAINTENANCE in official yellow font. Through the MAITENANCE shed was a trap door, which led into a series of dark tunnels and staircases, labyrinthine and ominous, broken only by the small pinprick of light that was this room with the very imposing Gertrude Robinson.</p><p>Zvi was very impressed by how elaborate everything was in England. It certainly was not that way in Night Vale. Though the tunnels did remind Zvi a bit of the Secret Police’s detention center in the Abandoned Mine Shaft Outside of Town.</p><p>Zvi told that to Gertrude Robinson as he sat down across from her. She frowned. Then gave Gerry a Look, where he was slouched in a corner.</p><p>“This Secret Police, was something you experienced in Night Vale?” She asked, he voice just as clipped and callous as the first time he had heard it.</p><p>“Um yes?” Said Zvi. “I was only in detention once though, don’t worry.” It was a lie, but Zvi didn’t really want to explain why he had been detained eight times. Thank G-d most of them had been on his free-crime days.</p><p>Gertrude frowned again, which Zvi had a feeling would become a pattern.</p><p>“And have you been experiencing anything out of the ordinary, Mr. Zana, since you traversed The Distortion’s hallways?”</p><p>Right, The Distortion. Gerry had told him about this, the hallways, the odd, sad figure. He shook his head a bit hesitantly.</p><p>“Not really. I mean, it’s a bit strange I ended up in England, I’ve never been here before.”</p><p>Gertrude Robinson looked harder at him. There was no other way to describe it, like suddenly he could feel the pressure of her eyes on him <em>increase</em>.</p><p>“And nothing other than the large distance which you traveled was at all strange to you?” She pressed. Zvi shook his head.</p><p><em>“Do you have an affiliation with any one of Smirke’s Fourteen?</em>” She pressed harder, and there was that feeling again, like when Gerry had asked him a question he hadn’t know the answer to back at the hospital, and Zvi had tried his best to find the words that would satisfy the pull to speak the truth, but he couldn’t understand the question. What was a Smirke’s Fourteen?</p><p>“I-um, I don’t understand the question.” He said.</p><p>Gertrude’s disapproving frown deepened, eyes jumping to Gerry in the corner before flicking back to him.</p><p>“Do you work for a higher power Mr. Zana, a God?” Gertrude asked normally.</p><p>“Um, like the Smiling God?” He asked.</p><p>Gertrude looked at him a moment before nodding.</p><p>“Oh well I don’t follow the Smiling God, I’m actually Jewish, but I don’t have a problem with people who do.” Said Zvi. “I guess Station Management might count as a higher power of sorts, but I don’t think I work for them anymore since I’m pretty sure everyone thinks I’m dead.” Oh G-d everyone thinks he’s dead—nope. Not the time to spiral. It’ll be fine when he gets a new phone.</p><p>“You’re Jewish.” Gertrude repeated flatly, looking oddly, disappointed?</p><p>“Yes?” Zvi said nervously.</p><p>“You don’t know anything about Smirke’s Fourteen, and you…believe in God I suppose?” She asked.</p><p>“Well I’m reform? And I don’t really believe in a literal G-d it’s like a metaphor. You know.” He gestured vaguely to the world around them. “A metaphor for how to live life and everything.”</p><p>Gertrude nodded slowly.</p><p>“Mr. Zana,<em> tell me about Night Vale</em>.” It was tingly, like the way Cecil’s voice felt when doing his show, and it made Zvi want to tell Gertrude Robinson all about Night Vale. Maybe it was because he knew how to answer the question this time, but the pull wasn’t painful, so Zvi decided to let the words pour from his mouth like honey.</p><p>“<em>Night vale is a small desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights hover overhead while we all pretend to sleep</em>.” Zvi laughed nervously. “That’s what Cecil always says anyway.”</p><p>Gertrude squinted at him.</p><p>“You are quite the mystery Mr. Zana, and you do not seem to be aware of it, how peculiar. Tell me, did you experience an impulse to speak just there?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“And you have felt it before?” She asked.</p><p>He nodded again, and then rushed to qualify.</p><p>“Well this was the only time that didn’t hurt.”</p><p>“Fascinating. And you can resist the pull, Mr. Zana? You seemed to take a moment to decide?”</p><p>“Well yes.” Wasn’t that obvious? You can’t make someone answer a question, well, with mind control you could, but with just a question? Ridiculous.</p><p>“Does my ability to wield this impulse seem odd to you Mr. Zana?” Gertrude asked finally, something glittering in her sharp eyes that hadn’t been there before.</p><p>“No?” He thought about it. “It kind of reminds me of my old boss actually.”</p><p>Then, Gertrude smiled, a slow cruel thing.</p><p>“In that case, how would you like a job Mr. Zana, while we research a way to get you back to Night Vale?”</p><p>“Oh, that would be great actually!” Gerry was right, Gertrude Robinson was going to help him!</p><p>She slid a contract across the table. It seemed to include a standard amount of dark magic, at least Zvi thought so, that sort of thing had always been more of Chad’s wheelhouse. At least dark magic contracts seemed to be the same in England as they were in Night Vale.</p><p>“Don’t I have to sign this in blood?” Zvi asked. Looking around the desk for a standard dark magic blook-ink pen.</p><p>Gertrude Robinson eyed him a moment.</p><p>“Why would you have to do that?” She asked.</p><p>“Because it’s a dark magic contract?” He replied. Did they not sign dark magic contracts in blood in England? What else would you sign them with? Gerry doubled over in the corner, making an odd, choked sort of sound.</p><p>“Take some time to think, Mr. Zana, but I feel most confident that you will make an extremely useful assistant.” Gertrude Robinson answered, handing him a pen.</p><p>&lt;O&gt;</p><p>Gertrude Robinson was many things. Ruthless, determined, calculating—she prided herself on being one of the most feared players in all of the supernatural world. What she was not, was easily, befuddled, and this, small person, this strange tiny man, was one of the most befuddling people she had ever met. She had expected one of two things given Gerard’s description. Either an avatar of the spiral or perhaps the web, or a thoroughly marked victim. What she had not expected, was a short young man, with a jovial demeanor dampened only slightly by the gloomy darkness of the tunnels. His whole face lit up in a most disconcerting manner when he caught sight of her. Shaking her hand vigorously and telling her in a loud American accent that he was really impressed with her secret underground base and comparing it to a “Secret Police detention center.” Truly spectacularly odd.</p><p>What was fascinating was his apparent unconscious resistance to compulsion, he also seemed to have some kind of resistance to being Known, though neither of these abilities appeared to be controllable. Perhaps to do with the fact that he may or may not have been previously employed by a servant of the eye similar to herself? To top off this list of oddities, was his blasé attitude toward what most would consider traumatizing or at the very least remarkably strange.</p><p>A very <em>useful</em> individual indeed.</p><p>She did not hold out much hope on being able to return Mr. Zana to his home, but in any case, she felt confident he would accept a position as her assistant in the interim. She would be able to manipulate him as she saw fit. Especially as a distraction when it came to the likes of Elias. She allowed herself a moment to indulge in fantasizing about Elias attempting a conversation with Mr. Zana. </p><p>“Gertrude?” A tired voice called.</p><p>“Yes, Jurgen I am here.” She responded.</p><p>“Are your…guests, gone?” He asked, eyes warily searching the room as he entered. She fought the impulse to smirk, poor Jurgen, still afraid Gerard was going to beat him to death.</p><p>“Yes, Jurgen.” She said levelly. “Young Mr. Zana is quite intriguing.” She steepled her fingers and watched Jurgen as he settled himself in the chair across from her.</p><p>“How so?” He asked.</p><p>“The man appears to be quite unaware of the entities, despite having what sounds like several encounters over the course of a few days, and the fact that I remind him of his previous employer. What’s more, he seems to have some kind of resistance to the Eye, perhaps other entities as well, all without his apparent knowledge.”</p><p>Jurgen looked puzzled.</p><p>“Could he be concealing his knowledge?”</p><p>Gertrude shook her head.</p><p>“No that is quite unlikely given that he is <em>resistant</em>, not immune, I can tell he is telling me the truth, or what he believes to be the truth.”</p><p>She leaned forward over her desk.</p><p>“Have you heard of a town called, Night Vale?”</p><p>Jurgen Leitner frowned.</p><p>“I think.” He said slowly. “I remember hearing something, rumors, during my antiquing days. You should speak to Salesa, he would probably know more.”</p><p>“But what have <em>you</em> heard?” Gertrude slipped the smallest bit of power into the question.</p><p>“I first thought it might be a book for my library, when I heard rumors of a child pulling a mace from a copy of <em>Oh the Places You’ll Go</em>. The incident turned out to be a case of an entirely mundane book, and an entirely supernatural child. If I remember correctly, said child had recently moved in with relatives, after the death of her family. Her previous place of residence was Night Vale. I couldn’t get any more details I’m afraid, the child’s relatives were under the impression that the place was a figment of the child’s imagination, a product of her traumatic experience.” Jurgen scowled a bit, telling Gertrude that her compulsion did not go unnoticed. </p><p>Gertrude hummed thoughtfully, letting the silence stretch between them, marked by Jurgen's fidgeting. </p><p>“I have offered Mr. Zana a position as my assistant.” She revealed after a moment.</p><p>Jurgen’s eyes widened briefly with shock.</p><p>“He most likely will not return home if he accepts Gertrude.” It is almost a rebuke, but not quite.</p><p>“It is his choice.” She countered. “And I think we both know, that I may not be alive much longer.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Jurgen: Stop being Ominous </p><p>Gertrude: Make me</p><p>Next up: Zvi has a distressing phone call and makes a decision.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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